


By Coincidence or By Design

by ginandironic



Category: Liquor - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: M/M, post-The Value of X, pre-Liquor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginandironic/pseuds/ginandironic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was their third night in that crappy airport motel room, and he wasn't over the novelty of sleeping in a bed next to Gary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Coincidence or By Design

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fyredancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/gifts).



> I think I started this fic in 2008, and I did my best to finish it off and post it so something other than my harddrive can enjoy it.
> 
> (It's been a while, so I don't remember how canon compliant this is in terms of their sex life in The Value of X, so take it for what it's worth.)
> 
> Title from Placebo's 'Drag.'

It was a nice night outside, so they had the window open. For New Orleans in mid-spring, 'nice' meant low humidity and the possibility of touching things without leaving behind a sticky handprint. Rickey was sprawled stomach-down on the creaky motel bed, wearing only boxers and thumbing through a cookbook. 

The air inside of the motel was perpetually stale and smelled like cigarette ash, so he had cracked the room's lone window open for some nighttime breeze. Rickey kept meaning to get up and shut the goddamned thing, but he was comfortable where he was, and the Chicken Piccata recipe in front of him looked too good to turn away from just yet. 

Gary was sitting on the bed next to him, closest to the window, doing God knew what, so Rickey reached over and poked whatever part of Gary was nearest. All he got for his trouble was a grunt.

"Close the window." When there was no response, Rickey went up onto his elbows and pushed himself into a sitting position. "You gonna get off your ass or what?"

"Or what." He was already tossing aside the magazine he was holding and going to his knees so he could reach the window just above the bed. "'M tired." He yawned for effect, wrenching the window closed with one long pull. The distant drone of cicadas ceased, but the louder sounds of traffic and the occasional plane did not. 

"So go to bed."

"You're reading. I'm not sleeping with the light on."

"I'll go to bed too, fuckin' A." He closed the cookbook and reminded himself to look up the Piccata recipe again in the morning. 

"Get the light."

Gary settled down onto his pillow, back to Rickey, and pulled a corner of the sheet over his feet. The cramped space wasn't as sauna-like as it could have been, but the window being open for a while had left the air muggy and thick, salty. 

It was their third night in that crappy airport motel room, and he wasn't over the novelty of sleeping in a bed next to Gary. He'd done that plenty of times before CIA, but now that he was back, it felt different. For one, the chemical smells of the Industrial Canal near the Ninth Ward were conspicuously absent. He hadn't realized how prevalent it was, how much the background details added up. Now all he could smell was exhaust from cars and that lingering cigarette taste no amount of brushing would remove. And Gary's shampoo, faint underneath it all.

Rickey flipped off the lamp on his side of the bed. The streetlight and neon from a diner's sign next to them annoyingly shone straight into the room, so he got himself out of bed and pulled the heavy green curtain closed, though it only cut the light from outside by half.

"You tired?" Rickey asked, arranging himself back on the bed next to Gary.

"It's almost two, so yeah." His voice came out muffled, face smushed against the pillow as it was. Rickey imagined more than he actually saw the outline of his head and shoulder, the dark fabric of his T-shirt that led down to threadbare gray boxers.

Three days wasn't enough to take the edge off. After tense months apart, just their proximity made Rickey's whole body prickle like he had a fever, or like he'd walked indoors after a summer day spent outside. Every time Gary exhaled, Rickey's hair stood up on end.

"But if you wanna we could... fuck around?" Gary hedged on finishing the sentence. Not because he was shy about asking, but because Rickey thought he still couldn't shake the feeling that they were back at Gary's house, in his bedroom. That Elmer and Mary Rose were standing in the hall, ears pressed flush to the door, waiting to bust in the minute Gary stepped one foot over the sin line. 

"Fuck yes," he said, and fit his hand over Gary's warm forearm.

Since he was fifteen, he got wood if he so much as thought about kissing Gary, so any touch with intent was like a bolt of lightning. In the darkness, Gary's mouth unerringly found the side of his neck and started pressing soft kisses there, little flicks of tongue that had Rickey's boxers tenting out even more. The same hand that rested on his forearm snuck down to his dick, silkily, slyly trailing fingers on the way down, just 'cause Gary knew how hard he turned Rickey's crank. He cupped him through the material, rubbing up and down and then over and over again in the one spot where precome had beaded, so fucking good that Rickey's back arched up off the mattress.

For such a good Catholic boy, Gary sure could give one hell of a hand-job. Rickey used to tease him sometimes that he took to dick like a duck to water, though that description more than fit for himself too. 

Finally, Gary stopped screwing around and shoved his hand down Rickey's sticky boxers. The line of his own dick was pressed hard against the side of Rickey's thigh, and Gary rocked forward in time with their breathing. Gary started jacking him good, tight around the base like he liked, and then loose toward the tip, catching the moisture and smearing it down. He was still kissing Rickey's bare neck and shoulder, but was too horny to keep track of two things at once, and kept stopping to just breathe there.

"Mmm, shit, I'm gonna come," Rickey said, pushing his cheek against the top of Gary's head. He had to squinch his eyes shut and curl his toes to keep from blowing it right then. It was so perfect and hot, all close next to Gary like that, slick sounds between them. "Stop that, I wanna try something."

Gary let him go after a few languorous tugs. He was used to Rickey springing things on him, although usually not this far into the action. He pulled back some to let Rickey move around. "What d'you wanna try?"

Rickey kissed him once, meaning for it to be quick, but it ended up as deep and heavy as all their kisses tended to be. He liked indulging in the familiar taste and feel of Gary's mouth under his now, the enamel and the soft heat. He'd missed kissing most of all.

"Take your shorts off, I'm getting something from my bag."

\--

G-Man did as he was told. His boxers peeled off like he'd gone swimming in them, which was only slightly disgusting. Rickey went to his luggage, still mostly unpacked, and pawed through compartments. Curious, G-Man stayed sitting up and concentrated on not getting too distracted by his dick.

Rickey came back to the bed, and he tossed something onto the mattress that landed near G-Man's knee. He reached for it and couldn't figure out what it was until it was practically on top of his eyeballs.

"Um?" 

"It's lube," Rickey said instructionally, but with a tinge of something sharp that sounded like he might be irritated. G-Man knew him well enough to spot the difference. He was excited, nervous. Maybe distracted. He couldn't blame him for that.

"I know. Why'd you..." He thought carefully about how to proceed. "What we using it for?"

Rickey jabbed him with a finger. He slid down the bed, making himself comfortable, and put both arms behind his head like he was having a lie-out or something. "You know what for." It was shadowy as hell, but he could see the line of Rickey's erect dick clearly. He wanted to put his hand back around it, but the bottle was still stumping him and required being put down. 

"I do?"

"You're gonna use it to fuck me."

"Dude!" He dropped the lube in shock. It _was_ what he thought Rickey was getting at, but hearing it like that made his heart trip up in his chest. 

Rickey pulled one arm out from behind his head and picked up the bottle of lube. "Don't act like you don't want to fuck," he said, accusing. He it to gesture pointedly. "You about shot your pants when I brought it up last night."

"I -- that's--" G-Man gave up trying to explain the difference between the filthy shit Rickey liked to say to wind him up, and the cold hard reality of it. The reality that was currently sprawled on Gary's bed, Vaseline at the ready. "You sure?" he said finally.

"No shit. I've been practicing at home, it's not as hard as it seems."

"You buy the Vaseline?" he asked. He was curious, because he had a mental image of Rickey plunking it down on the counter at the K&B, defiant blue eyes just daring the clerk to say something, and he wanted to know if it had really happened.

"Naw, I found it under my mom's sink."

"Oh, ew." He didn't have a very extensive idea of what Brenda Crabtree would be using Vaseline for, but it couldn't be good. He imagined that her fingers had left behind -- germs, or something, scooped-out indents in the stuff like ghosts that haunted his sex life. 

"What the fuck?"

"Why you wanna use your mom's stuff?"

"You got any better ideas?"

"No," Gary admitted. "Not really." He also knew better than to get in Rickey's way when he had something in mind.

"So let's do it already," Rickey said, not very put off by G-Man's apparent reticence. "Feel like I've been hard for days." 

He continued to stare at the jar in his hands. His cock, still rock-hard, wanted to obey. Hell, even his brain wanted to, but he felt frozen, like he couldn't imagine as far as opening the damn jar, let alone moving further. He gave Rickey a helpless look.

Exasperated, Rickey undid the cap and reached for G's hand. The brush of their fingers was felt good, warm and familiar, but Rickey only held it long enough to shove G-Man's hand into the Vaseline. He spread some between his fingertips and tried not to think about where it had come from again. 

Satisfied, Rickey sat back against the pillows and drew up a leg, foot planted against the mattress. G knew what to do next, even if Rickey hadn't practically held up a sign with that fucking display. He felt ridiculous, fingers smeared oily, and strangely embarrassed. A whole lot turned on, too. They hadn't done much more than rub off on each other and trade a few blowjobs when they had the time. Putting his fingers -- putting his _dick_ \-- inside Rickey was something else entirely.

Not to mention, it wasn't at all what he'd expected. He knew they were going to do it for real, and it'd been building up to it for a couple of weeks. Only every time they got close to it, something or someone interrupted. Brenda came home early. G-Man could hear someone washing their hands in the bathroom down the hall. One time, Rickey was jerking him so good he came in like fifteen seconds flat. It wasn't a big deal; he figured they'd get there eventually, and that Rickey would make it worth the wait, make it good for him, no matter what. Good for _him_. Now, with his hand all slicked up and Rickey staring up at him expectantly from the bed, he didn't quite know what to do or how it would go.

"Stop being such a freak and put them in me already."

Jesus. There it was, Rickey's ever-present straightforwardness. It made his face heat. He remembered Rickey just saying something about practicing at home, and now that he was over the initial shock, the image did a Technicolor rumba in his head. Just like he had practiced giving head, with his usual eagerness, working himself open, Rickey, muffling noises into his pillow 'cause he got so damn noisy, Rickey, doing it and imagining _Gary_. It was so hot it about melted his brain, and he found himself kissing Rickey's shoulder before could say something stupid. 

"G."

"Yeah, yeah." 

He slipped his hand down lower, thinking it might be too much at once to have to look at what he was doing, and Rickey lifted his hips. His finger slid in easier than he imagined it would; tight, hot, unerring, and if it felt like that on his finger, Jesus H Christ and all the Saints.

"Do two," Rickey said, squirming and bossier than anyone had a right to be. G-Man lazily swatted his thigh, but he obligingly adjusted his hand and slipped in another finger, his middle. The tight corkscrew of Rickey's ass just opened for him, even if Rickey hissed as he did it.

"Slower?" G-Man asked, sweat beading along his hairline. Jesus. If he looked too long, he'd go off. This wasn't something he felt like he should see, it was too -- it was intense.

"Nah. Fuck me with them for a minute."

Awkwardly, with a stiff wrist, G-Man moved his two fingers in and out, bending his fingers a little to test but, he assumed, not enough to hurt. 

"I don't think I need a third," Rickey said, and G-Man made an embarrassing sound. "Just keep doing that until I tell you to stop."

It was starting to get uncomfortable, bent over Rickey's body like he was, hand at that angle, but G-Man figured Rickey was the one who deserved to complain out of the two of them. He kept it up, and he could feel his cheeks flaming as his fingers sped up and he could hear the slick sounds of Rickey taking him. 

"Okay, I'm -- I'm good, God, I just want you to do it."

They rearranged in an overheated hurry, until Rickey was lying back against the pillows and his legs were bracketing G-Man's waist, restless hands kneading G's back. Rickey looked impossibly beautiful, even if he was a little splotchy. His mouth was parted, and G-Man leaned him to give him a properly appreciative kiss.

Rickey ran an affectionate hand through his hair but tilted his hips up impatiently a second later.

He tried to slide in on his own, without anything guiding him at first, and all he did was press up on and bump against Rickey's ass, which felt better than it had any right to. Smooth and hard and yielding at the same time, and his cockhead caught between Rickey's cheeks.

"I don't think I'm going to last," he mumbled.

Rickey huffed and reached down between them, guiding G's cock inside of him. It felt impossible, two fingers may have opened him up a little bit earlier, but now it was an effort to slide inside. He felt Rickey clench, and the look on his face wasn't entirely pleasure-filled.

"Shh, I know, keep going," Rickey said, his other hand going to G-Man's ass and insistently but slowly pushing him forward.

When he was most of the way in, G slowed down so Rickey could get used to it. So _he_ could get used to it, the intimate squeeze around him. No matter what they'd done before, it wasn't this. G-Man exhaled shakily, and Rickey patted the small of his back.

He started to move, the drag making him wonder fuzzily if he was using enough lube.

"It's good. Want you to come in me, _fuck_ ," Rickey whispered to him, craning his neck up off the pillow so he could suck on G-Man's earlobe and pull it between his teeth. 

G-Man did everything in his power not to whimper and come right there, slippery hands tightening on Rickey's hips. It was so hot and tight and wet inside from the lube, like he heard girls always should be, and Rickey wasn't helping him last by going on like that.

 _Then_ Rickey did this thing where he shoved his hips up to meet G-Man's rhythm, and the already vice-grip on his cock tightened even more, a rush of pleasure that started in his dick and spread to his spine like melting butter. 

"You like that?" Rickey asked. "You gonna shoot inside me?"

"Shut -- the fuck -- _up_ ," he panted, punctuating each word with a desperate thrust that had Rickey's smartass fucking mouth gasping for air. 

He knew from experience that Rickey made some weird sounds when he came, and he must have been weird too, because it got him off like nothing else. The rhythmic squeeze of his ass around G-Man's cock didn't hurt, either.

All told, they couldn't have lasted more than three minutes once G-Man got inside him. He pushed his hot face against Rickey's bony shoulder and tried to breath out, tingling from his toes to his dizzy head. Rickey was whispering something, his hands back to soothing G-Man, content and slow after coming.

He caught one of the whispers. "Love you." 

G-Man smiled and breathed out against Rickey's skin.


End file.
